Green Fields by Lucy Martin

 My river winds through meadows, soft and green

It's mirrored surface - calm - a quiet sheen

I lay my hands over the rippling stones

And let the currents move me, take me home

Harsh winds fold trees, and yet they plant new seeds

The sun will come to warm my blooming fields

I patch up my hands that dared holding hives

And I thank the bees for my honeyed skies

I gather grief where dying grasses sway,

Lavender for dreams, and sage for dismay

The kettle hums, the hearth-fire casts its glow,

Through soft green fields, I watch my river flow